


Only Human

by donteatmyfingerprints



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:37:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2633756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donteatmyfingerprints/pseuds/donteatmyfingerprints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Root is sullen and Shaw is baffled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Human

 There was no other word for it. Root was sulking.

 

It started out normally enough. They’d cleared their latest hurdle in the form of a silly number, thinking it was a good idea to blackmail some very powerful people. Said powerful people put a hit on him, and it was up to them to save him, fight crime, and all that jazz.

 

Some days, Shaw wanted to slap herself on the forehead. Isn’t rule number one, pick on someone your own size? _Jesus_ , the way these people’s brains worked, she was surprised they didn’t already kill themselves going to buy groceries or something.

 

Anyway, it was on that mission that Shaw was starting to realize that Root was being very, very strange.

 

Root was surly all day, interchanging between morose and snappy at her, and when she normally would’ve been excited at the very thought of shooting some kneecaps, she had been less than enthusiastic about today.

 

In fact, it seemed to take her a fair amount of effort to even leave their Turtle Cave. Which, Shaw was honestly confused by. After weeks of tedium, they finally had a number and she was itching for some action, some blood, some anything really. In comparison, Root didn’t jump it at the first chance she got. Shaw thought she even looked _reluctant_.

  
She didn’t think Root was just being lazy; that seemed too out of character. She was a hyper, ADHD sort of deranged psychopath, wasn’t she? Wasn’t that why Shaw enjoyed her- no wait, missions alongside her?

 

Shaw had been choosing guns, weighing them in her hand, and was trying to decide which sniper to use today, should she go Vanquish or DTA Stealth Recon Scout? Because she has an attachment to the Vanquish (she loves it like a baby so don’t touch it) but the DTA is nice and new, and she really loves new toys, and she was in the midst of her internal debate when she notices that Root hadn’t left with John.

 

She wasn’t even helping Harold do anything Super Complicated And Difficult With Computers. She was just sort of, sitting at the table, resting her chin on her palms, staring at Bear weirdly.

 

And then, Shaw watched as she stood up slowly, walked over to Bear and much to Shaw’s surprise, Root squatted down beside Bear and tried to cajole Bear into a _hug_. Shaw had stared at that scene unfold for a few uncomfortable seconds, and then she blurts out, “what the hell are you doing?”

 

Root just looked at her forlornly, still trying (and failing) to pull Bear into a hug. Bear was leaning away, looking as bewildered as Shaw felt. Harold politely ignored them.

 

“Um, mission? Remember? Aren’t you coming?” Shaw tried again. Root made an indistinct noise, and was trying to bury her face into Bear’s fur.

 

“Well? Does the machine have something else for you to do?” Shaw said, annoyance seeping back into her tone.

 

Root shook her head, mumbling into Bear’s fur.

 

Bear whined. Harold had finally looked over.

 

“Are you ill, Miss Groves? Perhaps Mr Reese and Ms Shaw can handle this one alone. And I would appreciate it if you would not try and strangle my dog.”

 

“Yeah, you’re just going to slow us down if you’re sick or something,” Shaw said, frowning, and Harold had given her a reproachful look. Root sighed dramatically, and pushed herself off the floor.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Christ,” Root grumbled.

 

When they couldn’t find a transport, Root had given her her biggest, poutiest, pathetic face, and insisted Shaw steal them a car because she didn’t _want_ to run. Shaw had been confused, exasperated and appalled all at the same time.

 

But then at one point, a gunner had almost shot Shaw and Root was ruthless, unneccessarily taking out _both_ his kneecaps, then shooting him once more in the foot for good measure, cursing and grumbling the whole time. Ah, chivalry. How was Shaw supposed to be annoyed with her now? John had allowed Root to walk ahead and then turned back to look at Shaw pointedly, raising one eyebrow. Shaw had raised her hands and made a face, indignant. Why does everyone assume Root’s new disposition is _her_ fault?

 

It was all in all a weird day, and Shaw had had enough of it. Thank god the mission was over. Now she could get back home and kick back with a beer. It looked to be almost 2am, and she really needed to catch some shut eye if people are going to expect her to stretch her lips at strangers at the make up counter tomorrow. Yes, stretch her lips. She does not smile. Ever. Especially not at that ridiculous job. She is, merely, stretching her lips.

 

John had gotten shot, the big loser. So they’d stopped at a 24-hr clinic to grab some painkillers and antibiotics, and there was a queue. Root opted to stay outside, and Shaw hated people in general, so she was stuck with Root.

 

Which brings them to the present, where Root is still sulking, and Shaw is getting more irritated by the minute. It was a nice night though. Quiet. The temperature was perfect, and with her sweat cooling off rapidly in the breeze… it was almost calming, sitting out here on a bench giving passer-bys her evil eye, save for the passive-aggressive Root.

 

A blonde girl walks past, and Shaw gives her her best smirk. If that doesn’t get a rise out of Root, she doesn’t know what will. Beside her, Root shoots her a puppy-dog face.

 

“What?”

 

Root makes a vague noise. Shaw makes a decision.

 

“Think she’d go home with me?” She asks, feeling confident that such an obvious opening would give Root the chance to take the bait and flirt back. God, she just wants her to be normal. Not because she was worried about Root or anything. She’s just annoyed with Root’s bizzare behaviour.

 

“The chances of that might increase if you were asking her instead of me.”

 

“Maybe I will.” Shaw defaults back to annoyance, trying to provoke Root.

 

“Fine.”

 

“Fine.”

 

The silence stretches for awhile.

 

“Root, are you _throwing a tantrum?”_ Root flips her off.

 

Why the hell is John taking so long? How many people have emergencies in the middles of the night anyway? Why is there a little civilisation in the bloody clinic? It’s not even a hospital, it’s a shitty, dodgy- _ah_ , that probably explains the crowd. Right. No questions asked kind of place; well, good for them.

 

“Okay, what the hell is up with you?” Root pouts and tries to find some way to lean on her, but its proving quite the challenge due to their (not _that_ much, Shaw insists) height difference. Root ends up fidgeting and sliding around the bench trying to rest her head on Shaw’s shoulder, and Shaw is trying to shake her off, the parasite.

 

“ _Root_ ,” Shaw cautions, “I’m not going to ask you again.” Root sighs dramatically for what seemed like the hundredth time today.

 

“I’m unwell,” Root finally says, gritting her teeth.

 

“Well, then say so, you idiot. What do you need? I’ll tell John to get a couple of flu meds or something,” Shaw makes to get up, but Root makes a whiny noise and tugs on her arm. Shaw stares at where Root’s fingers are in direct contact with her skin, and gives her a disgusted face.

 

“What are you- are you just _freely_ touching me now?”

 

Root tugs again. Shaw plops herself down, and waits very (in Shaw’s opinion) patiently. Is that a faint blush on Root’s cheeks, or is that her imagination?

 

“I’m not _that kind_ of unwell,” Root finally manages, averting her eyes.

 

“Woman,” Shaw huffs impatiently, “if you don’t-”

 

“I’m bleeding.”

 

“You got _shot_? Why didn’t-”

 

“Oh my god _you_ _idiot_ , I’m on my period.”

  
That shut Shaw up. The seconds trickle by, and now Shaw is pretty sure she’s red in the face too. Root folds her arms and crosses and uncrosses her legs.

 

“I’m having cramps,” Root complains loudly, and a passer-by hears it and makes a face at them, and Shaw is _sure_ that the situation couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, but as usual, Root proves her wrong. Apparently, Root’s been holding that in for quite some time now, and she’d just unwittingly unleashed Root’s entire day’s worth of grievances. _Oh no-_

 

“My back aches. I want to curl up in a ball and die. Why is it always so _cold_? Why is there no summer here? Shouldn’t there be summer? It’s like there’s a war in my womb right now, and I’m not talking guns and fire, I’m talking Krakens versus the Greek Gods. And if there are Gods involved, _why_ are they making it so cold-”

 

“We are not discussing your womb,” Shaw cuts in firmly.

 

“You don’t complain about my _hormones_ when-”

 

“Root-”

 

“-we are fucking. You seem to like it, when we are fucking-”

 

“Oh my god-”

 

“- _especially_ when we are-” In alarm, Shaw clamps a hand over Root’s mouth, and muffles the rest of her sentence.

 

“I’m going to let go, and when I do, you’d better have shut up.”

  
Root narrows her eyes, and for a moment Shaw thinks that she will comply, but then Root’s eyes twinkle, and she feels something wet and soft touch her palm. Shaw draws her hand back, repulsed.

 

“Did you just _lick_ my hand?”

 

“Would you prefer it if I licked something else?” Root shoots back, smirking and waggling an eyebrow.

 

Shaw rubs her forehead and groans, and she thinks she cannot keep up with the number of moods Root can have in ten minutes. She looks over anxiously at the clinic. John was next in line.

 

“I just want somewhere warm,” Root goes back to whining, and she kicks vaguely at nothing on the pavement, and this time, Shaw laughs. She tugs on Root’s hand, and Root looks up with the most pitiful expression Shaw has ever seen on another human being.

 

“C’mon, princess. Let’s ditch John, go grab a hot chocolate. I’ll even get you a whole cup of whipped cream.” If there’s one thing Root falls for, it’s a big, fat, juicy bribe. “We can drizzle chocolate fudge on top. And think about the look on John’s face when he comes back and we’re not here.”

 

It was worth it, Shaw thinks, as Root finally smiles properly, no smirks and no inappropriate-

 

“Are you being _nice_ to me?” Root says eagerly, child-like and gooey-eyed. Shaw groans.

 

“I can still shoot you,” Shaw grumbles, but she pulls Root to her feet anyway, and allows Root to walk near her.

 

But she doesn’t allow the linking of arms, no matter how much Root complains, or gives her puppy faces. That’s where she draws the line. Between the two of them, _someone_ has to act rationally.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm surprised there hasn't yet been a fic about this.
> 
> P.S. does anyone remember when Sarah Shahi played a character named Dani Reese and whenever Crews grabbed her she'd turn around and give the most grossed-out face, and say "... r u touching mi". I miss Life so much.


End file.
